


The Inciting Incident

by sexonastick, theagonyofblank



Series: BGC [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Caper Fic, F/F, Gen, Girl Power, The Plan: They Absolutely Have One, Totally Competent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexonastick/pseuds/sexonastick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theagonyofblank/pseuds/theagonyofblank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six girls. One epic revenge.</p>
<p>There is <i>totally</i> a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. KRISTEN

**Author's Note:**

> Several months ago, tumblr user [lizdexia](http://lizdexia.tumblr.com/) made a [really cool thing](http://lizdexia.tumblr.com/post/39624905332/bad-girls-club-2013-kristen-stewart-jennifer). So we wrote a thing.
> 
> Act 1. Scene 1.
> 
> Action.

Kristen mostly doesn't pay attention to the shit she hears from inside lock up. Unreliable sources. Big time.

Everyone's looking out for number one and she probably lands somewhere at about tenth or worse on everybody's list. There was a time she would've thought maybe Dakota—

But that was before she got sent away.

First day of parole, she's not expecting anyone to be waiting.

*

Personal effects of Stewart, K. returned to her possession upon release: set of keys, loose change, wallet—with ID, credit cards (both now expired), two photos (same blonde girl in both, witness for the prosecution in fact), a single stamp, and an unsent letter.

"Name," the man is saying, pointing to somewhere on the form. "Initial." He sounds almost bored, like this is nothing special. To him it's just another Thursday, but Kristen's about to walk out into the sunlight in normal clothes for the first time in close to five years. "And here."

For her, it's special. 

"Thanks," Kristen mutters through tensed lips. She tries to smile, but can't really remember how to do one naturally. It's been nothing but harsh smirks and angry looks for a while now. Maybe sometimes vulgar sneering.

Relaxed and natural smiles just make you a target. What the fuck would you have to be so happy about? Only a retard or a pervert, right, and you know what happens to either on the inside?

*

Good thing about that lack of expectations. Nobody is here.

Would've really sucked for that to be a disappointment.

*

There's that thing they say about humble beginnings and greatness. Maybe it was in a movie somewhere?

Point is: Kristen is at a roadside diner with $157 to her name—not counting the money already set aside for her bacon and egg omelet—when plans are first set in motion. 

She keeps one eye on the door and one foot curled underneath her in the booth. The waitress gives her a dirty look, but the food's not good enough for Kristen to give a shit.

The door rings when her partner comes in, and the booth creaks when she sits. "Hey," Kristen mumbles by way of greeting, looking up from the mountain she's building out of sugar packets.

"… hi." Emma always looks so out of place around Kristen, but especially in this environment. There's a homeless guy one booth down, and she's pretty sure that's a hooker whose shift just ended across the aisle. But Emma is sitting here all cute—and maybe oblivious too, but probably she's just good at faking it—in a sweater.

It's 74 degrees out and she's in a sweater. It's that soft kind with the— 

Actually, Kristen's not a hundred percent on what it's called, but she's pretty sure this is Emma's attempt at keeping her shit under control. 

Maybe it's working. Because if she's nervous, it doesn't show.

"You wanted to talk?" Kristen knows that Emma enjoys the chance to be showy ( _presentation_ , she'd say), but she'd rather just be direct. That serious look on Emma's face is just _killing_ her. "What, you running for president or something?" 

She laughs, and the sound feels sort of unused and unnatural.

It's not that she didn't laugh _at all_ for four years, but never as often or as loud as she might want. You just kind of learn to live with everything muted—and on Kristen, that's like semi-transparent—so that now she does it again, since she can—just laughs a little bit louder. It comes out sort of high pitched, almost cloying, and Emma cringes. Then Kristen feels kind of bad. 

Because - shit. The one person who visits her regularly in four years—sure as shit not her mom or dad, because Kristen wouldn't let them, _refused_ to see them—and now she's going to go and alienate her by being aggressively weird. "No, but— hey. Um. Good to see you." 

She smiles, and hopes it looks natural. 

It probably doesn't, but Emma smiles back. "It's okay," she says, like that's enough. Like she knows how fucking bad Kristen is going to be at this for a while—even worse than before, which was pretty fucking awful.

And actually, Emma's got one hand on the table now—like maybe she's expecting to _hold Kristen's hand_ , but that would be crazy. She's out of place, right, not totally out of her head.

But then - 

"You're not a Christian now, are you?" 

Oh fuck. It had never occurred to Kristen that this might be about _that_. She knows evangelizing is a thing that some (straight-laced) people are drawn to—oh shit, that explains the sweater—but she never really pegged Emma for the type. "Umm."

"I only ask," Emma starts, holding up her hands in that placating way she does when she apparently thinks Kristen's about to say something stupid (it's happened once or twice); "to see if you've become born again. I know it happens, especially in prison. I don't have any figures for you, but it's a thing. So I wanted to be clear on how you feel about revenge first."

Kristen's feeling sightly dazed, a little slow on the uptake, but that last part really resonates. "Revenge can be pretty biblical." She's never really read much of the Bible, but she knows enough about fires and floods. Revenge on a grand and god-like scale, which sounds pretty sweet right about now, and it probably lights up in her eyes as excitement.

First time being excited about something in— 

Shit. 

A long fucking time.

"Okay, so…" Emma leans closer and smiles a wicked smile that doesn't match at all with the halfway innocent look she's been projecting. She's almost bloodthirsty, and Kristen kind of likes it. Kind of a lot. "How would you feel about epic revenge?"

Kristen's lips twist, and she orders them both a coffee.


	2. ANNA

Education is important.

She tries to tell herself this—with low to moderate success—every time she takes a seat in class and the professor drones on about some program or another that she already knows about (probably heard about before most people did) and has already hacked her way through.

She’s a pretty big deal, actually.

Not that she lets it get to her head.

No, she’s very humble.

Anyway, the point is that education should be about learning something useful. Something new. Not something she taught herself when she was in high school, immersing herself into her music (angry, screamy music, of course; she likes to perpetuate the stereotype of brooding teenager, and now brooding adolescent) and just staring at the screen, typing out codes and poking in places she shouldn’t for hours on end.

It’s better than a social life.

But she’s on a scholarship at a fairly decent university, she gets good grades—and she’s not _ungrateful_. She needs a degree—everyone needs one nowadays—and she figures she’ll just get herself through these four years, through all the mundane classes and socially-adept people, and then she’s free to do whatever she likes.

Plus, her Advanced Comp Sci TA this semester is pretty cute.

(A little too perky for her tastes, but whatever. Nobody’s perfect.)

"Redheads, huh?"

She’s staring—or she would be—at the Comp Sci TA when this voice breaks into her reverie, and when she snaps her head to the left, she comes face-to-face with a smirking brunette she’s never seen before. Ever. The only reason this is a big deal is because this is her _senior year_ and this is a _senior class_ and she pretty much knows everyone in her department. (It’s a small department.)

And this girl? Is definitely not a Comp Sci major.

She shifts away slightly, because _hello personal space_ , and regards the girl warily. "Sure," she mumbles quietly, turning away and focusing on where the TA— _Brittany_ , she reminds herself—is standing at the front. Maybe the weird girl will go away if she just ignores her. Or at least stop talking to her. But then Brittany looks up from her notes or whatever, catches Anna’s eye, and smiles so brilliantly that—

"Banging the TA," comes the girl from her left again—and _is she chewing gum?_ "Cute."

"What?" Anna splutters, and she is not proud of how she sounds. "I am _not_ —"

"Whatever," the girl says, and it’s good to know that _someone_ here is amused. "I don’t _care._ "

Anna huffs. "I’m not."

The girl rolls her eyes, and Anna briefly wonders why she was trying to explain herself to a complete stranger anyway. She frowns and sets her gaze firmly towards the front of the room. She's going to ignore the girl. Really.

"I told you I don’t care," the girl starts up again a minute later. "That’s not why I’m here, anyway."

"Why _are_ you here? Couldn’t find anyone else to bother?" Anna raises an eyebrow, and only after the words have left her mouth does she realize that, _That’s not why I’m here,_ is a very strange thing to say to someone you’ve never met.

"You’re Anna, right?" the girl asks. "Anna Kendrick."

"What are you, some kind of stalker?" Though she supposes a stalker would actually know who she was, and not have to ask. Semantics.

"You’re one of those people who can never answer a question properly, aren’t you? I can tell already."

The statement ticks Anna off, mainly because of how _true_ it is (and this girl has only known her for what, five minutes?), but she only frowns. "What do you want? Seriously. You’re starting to creep me out."

"I’m Jennifer," the girl—Jennifer—says.

Anna waits, but nothing else seems forthcoming. "Okay. Am I missing something here? Do we know each other somehow? Made out one time and I don’t remember? Because—"

"Don’t worry, we would _never_ make out." There’s a slight pause, and it doesn’t occur to Anna to be offended until Jennifer starts speaking again. "I’m here because Kristen wanted me to talk to you." Off of Anna’s blank look, Jennifer rolls her eyes (and Anna’s pretty sure she mumbles something along the lines of, _"really, I thought she was joking when she said ‘slow on the uptake,'"_ under her breath) and adds, "Kristen Stewart? Does that ring a bell?"

" _Oh._ "

It does.

*

They meet up over dinner after class.

(The dining hall menu claims that it’s mashed potatoes and chicken, but both taste like nothing in particular, and Jennifer doesn’t even bother ordering. Anna doesn’t know why they didn’t just get Subway or something.)

"When you said you were Jennifer," Anna begins, pushing her food around the plate. "You meant Lawrence, right? Jennifer Lawrence?"

"I wasn’t sure you would get there on your own, but there it is."

Anna snorts. "It’s not like I was expecting a visit from one of Kristen’s… what _are_ you, exactly? Right-hand woman?"

Jennifer smiles, but it’s sort of sarcastic. (Anna doesn’t know how it’s possible to smile sarcastically, but somehow it is. It’s an art, and she’s kind of envious.) "That would require Kristen to trust anyone enough to have a right-hand woman, so no. I’m just the messenger."

A pause.

"Well, that, and a klepto, but you know. Don’t feel incompetent just because I have the more difficult job here."

*

It’s nice to have a purpose.

Kristen isn’t really asking for much—well, sort of; she supposes the whole _breaking the law_ thing is kind of illegal, so in that sense, _maybe_ it’s asking a lot—but the actual job is challenging and makes her think and is certainly more interesting than her coursework (which she could pass in her sleep, so). 

She stays up into the wee hours of the morning, chatting with her contacts (her _sleazy business_ contacts) and poking around different organizational websites, trying to find out what Kristen wants to know.

She shows up late to class a couple of times, but it’s not like her professors notice.

And anyway, helping out an old friend-slash-coworker is much more important than something that was discovered ages ago and will still be there when all of this is over and done with, right? Right.

(Brittany notices, though, and that’s the last time Anna’s late for her lab.)


	3. EMMA

Here’s the thing: Kristen is not a bad person.

A little angsty and a lot emotionally stunted, yes. But bad? No.

Emma can say this with utmost certainty because Emma has known Kristen since they were kids. Actually, make that before Kristen was even born. Not that Emma remembers this, of course, but she’s been told (multiple times, by various relatives) that even as a one-year-old, she’d taken to sitting by Kristen’s mom at Christmas and then New Year dinner, laying her head on her belly, and gurgling baby noises to fetus!Kristen.

It’s pretty creepy when you actually stop to think about it, but everyone else assures her it was cute.

“It’s like you already knew you’d be good friends,” is how Emma’s mom likes to put it, even though she barely knows Kristen and only ever refers to her as “that sullen cousin of yours”. Still, she’s not _wrong_ , and they _are_ sort of good friends.

Emma supposes that that’s what happens when you’re the only two kids in the same age group thrown together at family reunions—which wouldn’t necessarily mean that they’d become the best of friends or anything, but they have a _lot_ of family reunions. She cannot stress enough how crazy the whole family is about getting together constantly.

It’s kind of weird, but it’s family, so Emma doesn’t really question it.

She likes having Kristen around, though. They never really talk a lot and they certainly don’t talk every day, but they talk about what matters.

Sometimes that’s all it takes.

*

Anyway, the point is that Kristen shouldn’t be in jail.

Emma has a list of people who should be incarcerated, and Kristen is nowhere near the top fifty.

She’s a genius, in Mensa and everything.

People should start listening to her.

*

“I was dealing pot,” Kristen admits, looking down at her nails, the first time Emma goes to see her during visiting hours.

Emma blinks. “Okay.”

Lots of people deal pot. And as far as Emma’s concerned, there are worse things than pot to be dealing. But the law is the law, and the law is a bitch.

It’s only when Kristen stares at her wordlessly—it’s the look of surprise on her face that gives her away, since a silent Kristen is pretty typical—that Emma realizes she must have said that out loud.

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding apologetic in the least.

After that, she visits as often as she can.

*

It takes a while, but eventually she pieces the whole story together.

(Kristen is really private, even with her, and no one ever bothered to tell her what, exactly, Kristen was doing time for.)

She has a name, and as she drives home after a particularly quiet visit, she can feel the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind.

*

Here’s the other thing: Robin Scherbatsky is going down.


	4. THE PLAN

"Hey," Jenn pipes up when all four of them are having dinner at the house one evening. "What are we actually going to _do_ to Scherbatsky?"

"Do?" Kristen echoes, glancing at Emma out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeah," Jenn stabs a green bean with her fork. "Like, we’ve already recruited the tiny brunette—"

"—hey!—"

"—and we’re talking to Watson tomorrow," Jenn continues over Anna’s affronted protest. "But what are we actually _doing_?" As an afterthought, she adds, "Watson’s probably going to want to know that too."

Kristen stares some more at Emma, who stares right back at her, while Anna just glances between the two of them and looks lost.

"We could," Jenn starts when no one speaks up; "try poison. I know a guy—"

"Of course you do," Emma mutters.

"—who would be willing to supply us with some at a pretty cheap price."

"What kind of poison are we talking about?" Anna asks.

"That’s not part of the plan," Emma interrupts.

"Mushrooms. Not too gruesome of a way to go. Scherbatsky won’t even know what hit her before she’s dead," Jenn replies anyway, ignoring Emma.

"Oh," Anna says, considering. "But isn’t the point to make her pay for—"

"Guys," Kristen says firmly, putting an end to this line of conversation. "We’re not using killer mushrooms."

*

"So there _is_ a plan, then."

"Yes."

"And does—"

"No, Jenn, it doesn’t involve killing Scherbatsky."

*

Jenn’s sprawled out on the couch when Emma approaches, and she straightens immediately, adjusting her shirt and dusting away whatever remnants of popcorn remain on her vest. "Oh, great," she frowns. "What now?"

Emma narrows her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Kristen sent you to talk to me, didn’t she?"

"How—what—" A pause. "That’s not relevant right now."

Jenn gestures with a hand, telling Emma to get on with it, and reaches for the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

"You can’t _poison_ Scherbatsky."

"It was a valid suggestion," Jenn points out, popping a kernel in her mouth and chewing. "Though not something I would actually do."

Emma throws her an unconvinced look.

"Fine," Jenn dusts a hand off against her jeans. "I _may_ have considered going through with it. Amanita mushrooms aren’t hard to get. And I have it on good authority that Scherbatsky loves a good mushroom and swiss."

"Jenn," Emma sighs—she does that a lot around Jenn—and it’s really all she needs to say.

"All right, fine," Jenn raises both hands in surrender, turning her attention back to the television. "No poisoning. Duly noted, boss."

Emma purses her lips and, for a moment, Jenn thinks she’s about to say something—probably to lecture her or something equally boring—but instead she folds her arms across her chest and exits the room.

*

Kristen can tell that the talk with Jenn went "well"—at least as well as can be expected when dealing with someone who has the emotional capacity of a small child but with added access to a whole array of deadly weapons (apparently include poison on the list, too)—because it's Emma who comes to find her after.

When things go badly with Jenn, the whole house tends to know about it—although most of the time, that just means Emma and Kristen. Or at least, it _should_. Technically, Jenn isn't actually supposed to live here at all.

As a condition of her parole, Kristen's supposed to be staying in a stable environment. Regular sleep and three square meals is a big step toward reintegration into society, apparently. Somehow Emma made a convincing case for providing all that.

Jenn, however, _really_ would not.

That hasn't kept her from crashing more nights than she stays at her own place—although maybe Kristen is mistaken in assuming Jenn even has her own place—on the sofa, mostly, but there was even one night when Kristen came home to find Jenn passed out in _her_ bed.

Yelling was involved, which is almost always the case when things go _badly_ with Jenn. (Things often go badly with Jenn.)

The quiet's a good sign, even if Emma looks exhausted. 

Which is a pretty common look for her lately, anyway.

"So, she—"

"Won't make it fast and painless, if that's the concern." Emma slumps into the kitchen chair with a heavy sigh. Her shoulders are slouched and her hair is actually close to what you _might_ call frazzled. By her usual standards, she's a total mess— _really_ not put together the way you would hope the night before they go talk to Watson. With "talk" being the absolute best case scenario here.

All while avoiding looking Kristen in the eye, like this is all her fault, which—

Okay. 

Kind of.

"There are other concerns." 

The _look_ Emma gives her next is unflinching. Like holy shit, maybe she'd do better on the inside than anyone would ever guess levels of calm and collected.

"Concerns." It's a (mostly blank) expression that says she's calculating every possible response Kristen could come up with, and getting ready to shoot each and every one down in a fiery mess. "If you were very _concerned_ , maybe you shouldn't have trusted such an important part of the plan with—"

"We can trust her."

" _Really_."

It's not even phrased as a question. Too dry, sarcastic, and filled with so many varied and unique ways to be disappointed.

Not a question, but Kristen treats it like one anyway. "Yeah, _really_. I'd trust Jenn with my life."

"Oh, good." Emma's chuckle is bone dry. "Since you've taken such good care of it so far."

There's something obviously bothering her, but she doesn't seem interested in saying what it is. Just a lot of long stares, and weirdly careful conversation.

More judgement in her eyes than there ever was during the visits in prison.

But now is not the time to worry about any of this. Not on the night just before everything might fall to shit.

If Kristen gets shot tomorrow, she wants to leave things on good terms with the only family member who she's pretty sure—call it 92% certain—still gives a damn about her.

But it's almost as if Emma can read her mind—is that a shared blood kind of thing?—when she suddenly chimes in with, "We don't have to do this, you know."

This whole revenge thing was _her_ idea, so Kristen's pretty sure Emma doesn't actually mean that.

Which really only leaves—

"I'm not so sure bringing Watson in on this is a good idea. She's—"

"We need her."

"No," Emma replies calmly. (Infuriatingly calm.) "We don't. Jenn could arrange—"

"Jenn's contacts run through Watson. She would just get us Watson." 

The facts are simple, even if Emma might not like them. 

(And it's obvious from her face that she doesn't.)

But Kristen doesn't stop. "And I'm not going in there without a gun." Not this time. Not again. "I can't buy one, and I'm not letting any of this track back to you guys if shit goes sideways." This is her playing the role of reasonable one (for once)—with Emma doing stubborn and sullen—and it's a pretty massive role reversal.

Neither of them wears it very well.

"What makes you think she'll even help us? Help _you_?" Just as her voice starts to rise, Emma drops it back down again—as if that could mean she's still in control. (Emma is all about control.) Suddenly, her words are quieter, more serious, but even Kristen doesn't miss the pleading note in, "She could _kill_ you."

"She could," Kristen admits. "But she won't."

Emma frowns, but it doesn't last. She releases it (suddenly) in a sigh, saying, "I'm—I'm just tired, I guess."

"Tomorrow then."

"Yeah." 

*

Tomorrow comes really, really fast, and Jenn's still hanging around, apparently.

Either that or she came over _crazy_ fucking early just to hang out over Kristen's bed—like a total fucking weirdo. "You ready to go?"

"… I'm not even dressed."

Which should be pretty obvious, what with Kristen's face still pressed against the pillow where her hair is fanned out in disarray, one leg creeping out from beneath the covers.

"Yeah, I can see that. _Obviously_.This was my friendly way of saying move your ass." She prods Kristen in the butt to prove her point, and Kristen scowls. "So do you let us in on the plan _before_ we head over there, or are we all just going to smile and nod like we know what's going on?"

"You could always _act_ like you know what's going on. Talk fast. Be convincing." She pulls a t-shirt from the second drawer and waits for Jenn to turn around.

It doesn't happen.

"You know—" Kristen continues, starting to tug her pajama shirt off. "—your _job_ —"

"Hey!"

Kristen pauses with one arm out and the other stuck inside her sleeve. 

"PG-13. Keep your pants—and, you know, also _shirt_ —on until I leave the room."

"… so you're _going_ to leave the room?"

Jenn lingers for all of thirty seconds, looking unsure—and annoyed, uncharacteristically annoyed—before going.

Kristen stares after her for probably another thirty (at least) before she finishes getting dressed.

*

Kristen finally makes her way downstairs and is greeted—though that sounds way more pleasant than this feels—by the sight of Jenn and Emma sitting at the kitchen table, having a conversation about what she can only assume is The Plan.

The animated hand gestures are her first big clue. 

Emma's exasperated expression is another. 

Though again: not too unusual for conversations between those two, really. (Or between Jenn and _anyone else in the world_.)

When she notices Kristen standing in the doorway, Jenn pauses midway through a hand wave and gestures to the Captain Crunch on the table with her spoon. "Help yourself, sunshine."

As though _she's_ the one who actually lives here. 

Kristen responds with the sort of deadpan she really hopes won't be mistaken for fatigue this early in the morning, saying only, "Thanks," as she pulls a chair out next to Emma, who despite being fully engaged in her conversation with Jenn is still looking pretty tense—like she hasn't completely slept off whatever was bothering her from the night before.

Which isn't great, considering what they're about to attempt today.

Like, Jenn is actually looking super level and composed by comparison. Almost normal.

"And then," Jenn picks up right where she had apparently left off; "I tell her the rest of The Plan." She follows this with a pointed look at both Emma and Kristen. 

Ball's in their court (or whatever), but Emma's not really the sporting type.

"No," she counters matter-of-factly. "You tell her about the _money_."

"And the revenge," Kristen adds, because that's _actually_ the most important part, even if she's the only one who seems to remember it with any real consistency.

Jenn rolls her eyes. "Fine. _Don't_ tell me the plan." She puts her empty bowl in the sink. "Any words of advice before I go and poke the bear?"

Emma sighs. "Just... try not to be yourself."


	5. CLUSTERFUCK

Kristen doesn't really remember _much_ from computer science—and whatever little she _thinks_ she recalls must be wrong, judging by how many times Anna follows up behind her, making adjustments—but the idea is to at least _try_ to be helpful, so that's what she's doing. She plugs a cable in, and she's helpful. 

Even if Anna swaps it out about five milliseconds later.

"So, uh," Kristen starts, and okay so maybe there was an ulterior motive for showing up early to set up the surveillance van with the person who knows _way more_ about this than Kristen does and obviously doesn't really need her help in the slightest. "You made any progress on that thing?"

As if speaking in code is really necessary when they're completely alone together.

"The thing."

The van is actually kind of big—as in wide, spacious—but it's not really _tall_ and Kristen finds herself having to slouch more than usual, fidgeting and adjusting her position while Anna just smirks up at her from her spot on the floor. "Yeah, the— _you_ know. The thing I asked you to— the sort of—"

"Maybe."

"… okay." 

She's about to say more, but then Jenn shows up looking both suspicious and unsettled—both decidedly out of the norm for her, at least without added commentary—and Kristen decides it's best to shut up and let it rest.

For now.

*

The door of the van is wide open—which, _great spy skills, guys_ —and Jenn is peering in.

"What are you doing?"

The question is directed at Kristen, who is doing—well, _something_. Jenn doesn’t actually have any clue what that something entails, but she’s pretty sure that Kristen doesn’t either, if the frown on Anna’s face is anything to go by.

Which would normally be fine with Jenn, who for the most part doesn’t care much about what Kristen does and doesn’t do in her free time, but she’s the one who’s being sent into Watson’s lair in approximately three hours. 

And maybe she didn’t want to wear an earpiece in the first place, but if she _has_ to, then she’d rather it function properly, thanks.

"So," Jenn continues without waiting for a response, climbing into the van. It’s a testament to how large the interior is that the addition of a third person only makes it comfortably full and not too cramped. She turns to Anna, who is fiddling with one of the computers, "You got all the tech stuff covered?"

"That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?" is Anna’s response, as she sends Kristen a pointed glance. She leans over the tiny workstation, searching for something, and when she turns back to Jenn, she’s holding the earpiece. "Here you go. Put it on, and we can try it out."

*

By the time Emma shows up, everything is good to go.

"Let’s do this."

*

They’re parked outside of an old warehouse building in a district full of old warehouse buildings.

"How do you know this is the right one?”

Jenn’s question —her _valid_ question, in her opinion—goes unanswered, but that’s fine. Everyone has been pretty tense the entire drive over (all Anna would play on the stereo was some depressing song about dying or death or something, which didn’t help), and Jenn kind of gets it.

Except not at all, since _she’s_ the one who has to meet with Watson face-to-face.

"You guys owe me a pizza after this," Jenn mutters as she fiddles with the earpiece. "With extra cheese and everything on it."

Anna gives her a thumbs-up. "You’re coming through loud and clear."

"I’m not joking about the pizza."

Kristen snorts.

"Remember," Emma says very seriously right before she shuts the door. "Don’t mention Kristen. At all."

"Aye-aye, Cap’n."

It’s _one_ directive—how hard can it be to follow?

*

Pretty hard, it turns out.

*

Jenn gets past the guards with relative ease.

(Pepper spray and an elbow to the back of the head turn out to be a pretty effective method of knocking someone out.)

The problem, she's starting to realize, is her team.

_"Go left,"_ is what Anna tells her, right as Kristen says, _"No, take the right door."_

This happens a couple of times before Emma finally takes over, and within thirty minutes, Jenn finds herself standing in front of Watson, who doesn’t look very pleased to see her and is also more intimidating than she remembered.

"Jennifer Lawrence."

Jenn has never heard her name said in a British accent before, so _that’s_ kind of cool. But what's less cool is the threatening note to Watson’s voice—a threatening tone that even Emma doesn’t use with her, and Jenn is officially unsettled.

"That’s me," she says, sticking a hand up in greeting. "Hello again."

Watson frowns. "You have five minutes, Lawrence."

"I only need two words: Robin Scherbatsky."

Jenn knows by the way both of Watson’s eyebrows shoot up that her interest is piqued. "And your point is?"

"I hear you want her gone," Jenn says. "So do we."

"We?"

_"Whatever you do,"_ Emma is saying into her ear. _"Don’t mention—"_

"Kristen—"

_"—Jenn!—"_

"Kristen _Stewart_?" Watson looks furious now.

"…and I," Jenn finishes lamely, realizing her mistake.

_Oops._

*

_Somehow_ Kristen is the only one without headphones. Like, did they not make room in the budget for _three_ pairs of headphones—really?

At least Emma's being really emotive, so it's sort of possible to follow the flow of the conversation. (Anna, on the other hand, mostly smirks.)

“Whatever you do,” Emma is saying, speaking fast, "don’t mention—Jenn!— _Fuck!_ "

See, Kristen can tell quite clearly that the direction the conversation's headed in is definitely _not good_. 

"Hey," she says to Anna, who is _still_ smirking (not really helpful); "let me listen."

"Yeah, no," she says, scoffing into her hand without even bothering to look up at Kristen. Too busy eyeing her tech, monitoring levels or whatever.

"No, but—"

And now Emma's voice is actually rising, " _Jenn_ , you can't _address me_ dire— Don't answer me now!" 

"—I _really_ need to hear this."

"Train wreck. Screeeech." Anna shrugs thin shoulders. "There, you hear it."

"… we're totally fucked, right?"

"Pretty much."

*

"You sound _really_ loud, though," Jenn needs to point out (really reasonably, she thinks), because Emma's shrieks are almost making her ears bleed. "Anna, are you sure you fixed everything Kristen fucked up?"

"… excuse me, you do realize I can _hear_ you?"

Watson's giving her a _look_ that's probably meant to be threatening, but this is about as bad as it could possibly get, so Jenn's not feeling especially moved. "Yeah, I know. _Clearly_. Now give me a minute."

Except actually now when Watson's frown darkens, apparently it _was_ possible to get worse. "I've already given you five."

_"Wait—What is she—!"_

"What is _who_ — Look, stop _yelling_ at me," Jenn absolutely _shouts_ into the headset while tearing it off and tossing it aside. 

As it moves further away, she could almost _swear_ she still hears Emma's voice, screaming at what must be the top of her lungs, saying, _"No, I'm yelling at—"_

"Hey," comes Kristen's voice from _directly_ behind Jenn. "You want to talk, or are you two not done fucking around yet?"

*

Apparently, there's at least one other guy under Watson's employ with a gun (apart from those two unconscious dudes near the back door), because he shows up with perfect timing, pointing the weapon right at Kristen's head.

She doesn't bother to raise her hands.

"Wow," Watson is saying in that really condescending and _British_ way she has; "you know, a lot of people get smarter in prison." Her eyes flick up and down, and whatever conclusion she comes away with seems to settle largely on _disdain_. "But I see you had a different experience."

"We don't have high hopes for this one," Jenn says, and Kristen could almost _swear_ she can faintly hear Anna's laughter coming from the headpiece on the ground. Assholes.

"I guess you're still pissed," is all Kristen says, directed at Watson, and largely _ignoring_ Jenn. "I mean, since I went to jail and you had fuck all happen to you, I could see why you'd still have a problem with me. Sure."

Watson cocks her head to the side. She either looks impressed or maybe it's just amused. Like a cat playing with a dying bird. "Oh, _really_."

"Look, if you're gonna shoot me, you should just go ahead and do that, but if not then maybe we can talk."

"Uh, I'd prefer if you didn't shoot her."

"Thanks, Jenn."

"I mean, maybe later, but at least let me leave the room."

"… thanks, Jenn."

" _No one_ is shooting _anyone!_ " Emma shouts from the door, and that leaves Anna all alone in the van, apparently.

*

"Who the fuck are _you_ and is _anybody_ watching the perimeter?" Watson is most likely directing that at the guy with the gun—who is starting to look like he can't even pick a preferred target anymore. " _Anyone?_ "

It doesn't keep Jenn from answering as well, "Oh, the two guys by the south entrance? I knocked them out on the way in."

She must _genuinely_ want to give Emma a heart attack. It must be part of the plan that Kristen never let her in on. That's the only _possible_ explanation at this point. "… we're still not shooting anyone."

Watson snorts. "It's looking less and less likely."

*

"I've already given you lot five minutes," Watson is saying, "So tell me: Why should I give you _another_ five?"

"If you really wanted to shoot us," Kristen replies, barely hiding a smirk. "You would have done it already. So _I_ think we've already got your attention."

Watson frowns. After a minute, she waves her lackey off, who holsters his gun and retreats to the doorway. "All right, Stewart. I'm listening."

"We both want Scherbatsky gone," Kristen explains.

It's stating the obvious, but that's how this kind of thing goes. Start small and end with a bang.

"You have the means," she says, nodding towards the armed gunman by the door; "and we have a plan."


End file.
